


Right Back Where We Started

by ohitsthatchumlord



Category: One Piece
Genre: Ao3 has decided the order of my tags is irrelevant, Clingy Zoro, Demisexual Roronoa Zoro, Fluff, Getting Together, Insecure Roronoa Zoro, Introspective Roronoa Zoro, Kissing, Love Confessions, M/M, Making Out, Not Actually Unrequited Love, OOC, POV Zoro, Pining Roronoa Zoro, Requited Love, Resolved Sexual Tension, SOMFT, Sanji Is Not A Vinsmoke, Soft Roronoa Zoro, Soft Vinsmoke Sanj, Teasing, Whiny Sanji, they are both gone on each other, which is rude and annoying, you don’t understand how gone
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-10
Updated: 2020-08-10
Packaged: 2021-03-05 23:49:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,729
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25743862
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ohitsthatchumlord/pseuds/ohitsthatchumlord
Summary: Zoro doesn’t know how they got here.One minute, he’s fighting the Strawhat’s chef in the kitchen, and the next Sanji has fallen on top of him. Neither of them have moved for some time, yet they’re sharing the same space, the same air, in a state of limbo. Everywhere their bodies touch is becoming warmer with shared body heat, and it burns where their skin meets.
Relationships: Roronoa Zoro/Vinsmoke Sanji
Comments: 7
Kudos: 227





	Right Back Where We Started

**Author's Note:**

> This is high-key just an excuse to write about the 50 episodes of OP where Zoro and Sanji didn’t hate each other, that somehow everyone forgot about. I also really like introspection, soo. . . This is only from Zoro’s perspective, but trust me, Sanjij is just as useless and soppy inside his mind as Zoro is written. Probably OOC but I like characters who are weak for each other. This is set sometime after they enter the New World but before Zou bc I haven’t seen that arc yet. Not beta read.

Zoro’s first impression of the fighting cook was a mix between impressed and confused.

One minute the lithe blonde was a vision of seething passion and the next he was acting like a spineless, simpering idiot. How did a man strong and gutsy enough to hold a marine up by the neck, one-handed, while biting out a speech about wasting food and pissing off your ship’s cook, turn into a fawning simpleton as soon as a woman appeared?

It was confusing. Sanji was confusing.

After they met up in Arlong Park, Zoro was still confused, though his respect for the chef begun building slowly from then on. Their teamwork in defeating the fishmen and distracting Arlong while Luffy rejoined the fight, was seamless. They fell into it so easily.

When Sanji came up to rejoin the fight after foolishly jumping in the water after Luffy, the swordsman found himself easily believing his assurances that their rubber captain was alive without immediately demanding details.

Zoro was even more impressed witnessing the blonde absolutely demolish that ponytail fishman without missing a beat. The green-haired man was glad to have a new crewmate that could kick the shit out of their enemies. Whether the reason be the convenience of another strong Strawhat member, or satisfaction in watching the chef confidently and rather skillfully take apart an enemy.

The swordsman was also quite touched when the chef showed concern for his injuries, even though it stung to be seen so weak. He knows the chef saw his shameful defeat by Mihawk, but he found he liked the soft moment in Cocoyashi where Sanji came to check on him in the midst of all the celebrating. He liked the immediate feeling of camaraderie and amiable caring that seemed to run between them. 

Without his permission, Zoro soon found that their mutual admiration and respect for one another’s strength and principles, had cemented a formidable amount of trust binding them together.

Even on the Going Merry they seemed drawn to one another. Zoro knows it wasn’t just him that moved closer to the chef while on deck. More than once, it was the blonde initiating close quarters between them, usually walking over to where Zoro had already been sitting and leaning against the railing. In the beginning, sharing space was so easy with them. The trust during a fight was absolute and given freely. The reassuring or placating shoulder touches were few and far between, yet they constituted a new physicality between them that seemed a natural progression of their friendship.

So Zoro _almost_ regrets challenging the hot-blooded chef at Little Garden and ruining some of that cordiality.

Zoro is sure he started the fighting between them, although the chef gave as good as he got, so it was never one-sided. He’d only meant to tease the chef. Maybe poking at him would introduce another layer to their relationship. Zoro loved messing with Luffy and Ussopp, especially Ussopp. This never became a problem because the sharpshooter did it right back. And at that point, he’d seen the chef goofing around with Ussopp and Luffy, with an easy skin ship, so it was possible for them too.

Right?

So yes, Zoro wanted to tease the chef for asking the swordsman to gather food when it should be part of the cook’s job.

Clearly, that backfired.

Then again, maybe it didn’t.

He didn’t mean to _actually_ insult the chef or question his strength, but he was fine with accepting the friendly challenge the blonde issued. He liked testing himself against the blonde. After that though, it seemed neither could accept defeat. Yet Zoro doesn’t regret that.

He won, Sanji was just being stubborn.

Either way, whatever happened at Little Garden introduced this new tension that somehow put up more barriers between them than it tore down. Obviously, the fighting brought them closer physically, and Zoro will admit he enjoys riling the chef up, but it made that open air of easy camaraderie off-limits. Of course, they still trust each other completely during fights to take care of enemies and protect their weaker nakama, but now sitting close together seemed almost taboo. Zoro can’t lay a placating hand on the blonde’s shoulder without it instigating a fight.

Don’t get him wrong, Zoro loves the fighting. It’s one of his favorite parts of their friendship. He’d always known the blonde was passionate, but when that passion was directed at him, the swordsman grew smug. To hold all of Sanji’s focus like that was incredible. It was flattering in all of the best ways. Sanji had to use his entire focus to keep up with Zoro’s swords and matching passion. Whenever the chef spit at him in anger sharper than his swords, Zoro knows he’s the only one to rile the chef up to that degree.

Of course, the chef pissed him off too. Sanji was frustrating at best and downright annoying at worst. The cook’s behavior around Nami and Robin, or any other women, was hard to watch, even harder to juxtapose it with the rest of the cook’s personality. He was stubborn and impulsive and infuriating and always managed to rub Zoro the wrong way.

However, Zoro loved having an outlet for excess energy, a sparring partner, someone who could take everything the swordsman threw at him and give it right back. When directed elsewhere, his steadfast determination and stubborn tenacity drew Zoro in like a moth to a particularly energetic flame, and when harnessed against Zoro in a fight, it was even more breathtaking. He wouldn’t trade that for anything.

In the end, he doesn’t regret Little Garden, not at all. He’s never regretted anything in his life. He just _almost_ regrets it because it made what they had in the beginning seem inaccessible. And maybe Zoro wants some of that easy camaraderie back. Not in place of what they have, but perhaps in addition to.

Zoro just wants to be able to share space with the blonde cook without starting a fight. That’s all he wants. But maybe, if he were a little honest with himself, he could admit that he wanted more than that.

Maybe he wants Sanji to stand on the deck beside him while Zoro leans against the railing half asleep. Just maybe, he wants Sanji to reach over and tug on a small lock of green hair before soothing it back into place with his dexterous fingers. Maybe, just maybe, he wants to “wake up” from his nap to catch those fingers as they pull away from his scalp and guide them down to his mouth so he can lightly kiss each knuckle before allowing him to pull his hand away and return to his cigarette.

So maybe, he wanted something more, but he didn’t know how to achieve that, especially after Thriller Bark.

Thriller Bark only reassured Zoro of their foundations of concern and strength. Zoro trusted Sanji to look after their nakama after he died, he knew he would. He didn’t plan on dying, but if he did, he knew where they stood. However, he was surprised that Sanji’s concern for him after finding him bloody and half dead in that field once he had taken Luffy’s pain, was just as out in the open as it was in the beginning.

However, that concern was just as quickly shrouded in anger. Sanji was pissed the swordsman knocked him out, that he was questioning Sanji’s strength. He wasn’t. He knew Sanji was just as capable of taking Luffy’s pain as Zoro, but if death was a possible outcome, they needed to hedge their bets that a chef was more important than a swordsman.

In the end, Thriller Bark had changed nothing, and neither had their two-year separation. Zoro had changed physically and so had the cook. Zoro’s understanding of what they had and what he wanted had changed, in that he realized that it was always what he wanted. Other than that, they were the same, what was between them hadn’t changed regardless of how much more the swordsman wanted.

So Zoro was completely unprepared for that day in the galley when everything did change between them.

***

Zoro doesn’t know how they got here.

One minute, he’s fighting the Strawhat’s chef in the kitchen, and the next Sanji has fallen on top of him. Neither of them have moved for some time, yet they’re sharing the same space, the same air, in a state of limbo. Everywhere their bodies touch is becoming warmer with shared body heat, and it burns where their skin meets.

Maybe it was the cannonball startling the cook into spraying some water onto the floor before their fight. And maybe it was Zoro teasing the cook about that fact as they made their way to the kitchen door to join the fight apparently occurring outside. Maybe it was them getting distracted from their destination and grabbing at each other, spitting insults and challenges about who could defeat more enemies once they join the fight.

And maybe it was the ship suddenly shifting to 50 miles an hour from rest in what Zoro assumes is one of Franky’s coup de bursts. The sudden change in momentum had the swordsman and chef walking backwards quickly to reorient them and regain balance while still connected by various hands fisted in clothes.

And maybe it was a combination of all those things that made Zoro trip backwards on that small puddle of water as he planted his left leg in what he had hoped was a stabilizing brace, but caused him to flail as he lost balance completely and took Sanji with him.

The swordsman was winded.

He fell with the full weight of himself plus the cook and his breath had yet to return. Zoro tried to assess the situation as his lungs allowed oxygen back into his chest. Sometime during the fall though, the swordsman had braced the chef with his hands on his slim waist and Sanji had yet to complain.

In fact, the blonde hadn’t moved from his perch on Zoro’s chest. It even felt like the blonde had somehow shifted closer than when they’d first fallen. Sanji’s fists were no longer clutching Zoro’s kimono, but softly resting on top of it.

Sanji’s head was bent down, forehead resting on his sternum between his pectorals. Some of the chef’s blonde hair was splayed out on the swordsman’s open chest where his kimono lay open. When Sanji shifted, his hair shifted against his skin, which tickled immensely. It was all Zoro could do to stop himself from moving a single muscle against the sensation. He didn’t want this moment, whatever it was, to end. He would stay still and savor this until Sanji put an end to it.

Strangely enough, he didn’t, not right away.

And then.

_And then._

Sanji calls his name.

His _name_.

“Zoro,” the blonde says calmly. His lips brush against the skin of Zoro’s chest and he gasps as he feels the heat from the soft lips dissipate through his entire torso starting from that spot. Zoro stops breathing.

He’s floored.

Of course, Zoro has heard Sanji say his name before, but it’s usually in the heat of the moment. It’s dismissive, or angry, or not directed at him, or any other iteration of ‘not meaning a damn thing’. But here, in this moment, it sounds important, it sounds like Sanji wants it to mean something, it sounds like Sanji wants him to acknowledge it, like they both should.

When he doesn’t respond because he’s too busy _dying_ , he hears the chef repeat himself. “Zoro?”

At last, he forces himself to swallow, but he almost chokes on his saliva when the blonde presses his lips more fully into his chest and kisses him before lifting his forehead away. And now he’s _really dying_.

Zoro knows his entire face is flushing, he can feel the blood rushing through his ears. He’s just worried the chef will see the redness creep down his neck, as he’s sure it eventually will.

He tries again to get out a response, but the breath stutters in his chest when the chef’s dark blue eye pops open, his gaze meeting the swordsman’s.

He only manages to get out a hum, that vibrates deep in his chest. He’s sure the chef could feel it.

Zoro is completely frozen, he’s waiting on Sanji to move away from him, closer, do _something_. Maybe it will fulfill all of Zoro’s dreams. Maybe it will be what Zoro wants, those things that are too much, and not what they are, what they may never be.

Sanji moves.

He watches the cook’s eye take in his likely wrecked expression, the red cheeks, startled eyes, the fact he’s holding his breathe. Zoro watches that eye shift focus around his brutish face only to land on what Zoro thinks is his lips.

Zoro’s breathing quickly now, no longer holding air in his lungs, but maybe, as he’s just now realizing, Sanji is too.

In fact, he spies Sanji’s reddening cheeks, small strands of hair flutter forward in tandem with rapid breaths, as his gaze flicks back to Zoro’s and holds there. He’s not sure if he wants to break the moment or stay paralyzed so that it would last forever.

Before the swordsman can decide, Sanji speaks again. “I have to do everything around here, don’t I?” he says weakly. The swordsman opens his mouth to reply, but the chef continues on, voice gaining confidence and a teasing lilt, “Did your words get lost reaching your mouth, Marimo?” His expression is somehow affectionate and light despite his impatient gaze.

Zoro quickly tries to defend himself. However, his vocal cords seem to be stalling because he can only croak out “No!” and “Sanji-“ before his voice cuts out.

He furrows his brow in frustration.

What is it about the Shit-cook that takes away his ability to _speak_ , god damnit?

He’s Roronoa Zoro! He’s going to be the Greatest Swordsman in the world and first mate to the Pirate King. He’s part of the Strawhat’s monster trio. He’s one of the strongest men on the Grand Line. Why the hell can’t he speak?

His nose wrinkle as his thoughts spiral but he is startled out of them when he feels the chef run his thumb along his scarred eyebrow. “Hey Zoro,” he starts, his tone halfway between a statement and a question. Sanji doesn’t start again until Zoro is entirely focused on him, their gazes locked despite the lack of depth perception. “I’m going to kiss you now. Okay?”

The swordsman’s not sure if his heart stops beating or his brain short circuits, because he finds himself daydreaming instead of responding.

He’s wanted to kiss Sanji for so long, he can’t even remember when it started. He doesn’t even know when he fell in love with the chef. He assumes it was fairly early on in their journey together. Perhaps around Alabasta, maybe.

What he does remember, is the moment he _realized_ he wanted to kiss him _,_ because it surprised the hell out of him.

It was just after they left Enies Lobby, after Usopp’s betrayal and subsequent apology, after Sanji had agreed with the way he handled that situation. They’d been sailing a few days, the seas were calm, the brisk, salty breeze was just enough to be soothing in the hot sun, the anger and apologies just as thoroughly soothed.

It had begun with familiar boredom and the familiar solution to resolve it. He remembers an instance after their routine insults and typical song and dance fighting had resulted in the cook holding Zoro close by the collar of his shirt or vice versa.

As soon as the adrenaline left his system, he found himself noting how close they’d been, how many millimeters of space were often between their lips, how flushed Sanji always looked when they fought, and how fun it was to piss the cook off. And why he’d never _really_ thought about it before.

He remembers that when they grappled each other close like that, he could always detect the spices of Sanji’s cigarettes on his collar or the varying aroma of fruits from foreign islands on the cuff of his shirts. He remembers acknowledging that he had always been able to feel the whip-like potential held taut in the cook’s body, just waiting to be released, whenever they fought. He also remembers thinking it would be the perfect opportunity to share an adrenaline filled kiss with the hot-headed chef. And that’s what had jarred Zoro into acknowledging his feelings for the cook, because he’d never _wanted_ to kiss someone before.

Sure, he’d kissed several other kids at his dojo growing up when they’d asked. He’d been curious, so why not?

He’d even joined lips with people after leaving Shimotsuki to become a pirate hunter.

One had been a fellow pirate hunter that had kissed him full on the mouth in celebration of her winnings, before falling off the barstool she was crowing drunken victory from.

Another encounter, which was the last before joining Luffy’s crew, had been a marine officer who was very impressed by Zoro when he brought in a pirate with 9,000,000 Beri bounty without a scratch on him. Though Zoro had ended that before it even started.

The guy had convinced Zoro to go drinking with him with the offer of free booze, which backfired for him. He had tried to keep up with Zoro, so ended up sloppy drunk, way too handsy, and way too full of himself. He only got as far as tipping over to grab Zoro’s hand and puckered his too thin lips before Zoro had punched in his teeth, chugged the rest of his ale, said “My drinks are on him,” and left.

All in all, Zoro had never _wanted_ to kiss any of those people. He didn’t understand the appeal.

The pirate hunter woman was fairly attractive, and her kiss was mostly quick, impulsive contact, but Zoro didn’t find himself dwelling on it. Kissing was annoying more than anything. It was kind of just drooly mouths, untoward hands, and gross tongues.

So, the thought that _Zoro_ wanted to kiss someone, to _initiate_ it, let alone that it was Sanji, was fucking shocking. The concept that he was _thinking about it_ and that the idea didn’t completely disgust or annoy him was so strange and just did not compute.

Even stranger, was that it went farther than kissing. Months later, he realized he wanted Sanji to touch him too, when kissing had progressed to making out to eventually getting naked with the cook.

For a time, he’d tried meditating on it. Tried to push the thoughts away, but they just kept seeping in. How soft Sanji’s lips looked, how long his legs were, how skilled and calloused his hands were despite his refusal to used them during a fight. Eventually, he accepted that the thoughts were there to stay and that they probably meant something more.

They meant something significant, about himself, about how he felt about the cook, about why it was only Sanji he’d ever had those feelings for. They meant that he loved him.

Sanji was a ridiculous man. A stubborn, impulsive idiot, but he was strong, and loyal, and clever, and Zoro loved him. And he realized that he didn’t mind loving him. They were both pillars of strength in the crew, part of the same supportive structure.

If Sanji would let him, Zoro can see himself trusting him intimately. But Zoro knew that was impossible. So, he did nothing. Things would never change, they’d remain the same, because Sanji wasn’t interested, and their friendship was more than enough.

But maybe the Love-cook had had similar thoughts at some point. About kissing Zoro, about being with Zoro. Like right now. And _holy shit_ if that wasn’t a rush. Sanji could return his feelings, Sanji wanted to kiss him, he’d asked and everything, he was right there, so close, and he wanted Zoro too.

Finally, finally Zoro nods in acquiescence. Almost immediately, Sanji shifts upwards, pulling himself forward so his lips rest right about the swordsman’s. The chef can no longer rest his folded arms on Zoro’s chest while bracing his own weight, so he leaves the hand already on the green-haired man’s cheek where it currently rests, but brings his left forearm to rest beside the swordsman’s undamaged eye to prop himself up.

Without any say so from Zoro himself, his one good eye shuts as the cook closes the distance. He waits for one moment, then two, but nothing happens.

His eye cracks open to look at Sanji, to ask why he hasn’t just kissed him already, but Sanji beats him to it again. “Zoro,” he’s so close that their lips just barely graze, “is it okay?” He still sounds so sincere, but the cook has to be teasing him at this point.

The cook’s gaze does not move from his lips, and when his mouth parts and his tongue darts out to wet his top lip, Zoro is _gone_. “Yeah. _Yes_. Sanji just kiss mmmph-“ he tries to grit out impatiently, but is interrupted yet again by Sanji, when the blonde clears the last bit of distance between them.

And he really can’t remember what he was upset about because Sanji is kissing him. Any harsh words for the cook dry up in his throat because Sanji is kissing him. So he kisses back.

It never gets heated at any point, which Zoro is fine with. He can feel Sanji’s tongue running along the seam of where their lips meet, but that’s it. It’s mostly just a press of lips, overlapping, warm, slightly wet. And it’s good, it’s perfect, because he can still feel Sanji’s fingers on the blind side of his face, trailing down his scarred eyelid, over the line of eyelashes, down his cheek, to the corner of his lips. He can feel Sanji’s other hand tangle into the hair at his crown for a firm but gentle hold. Zoro can hear and feel Sanji sigh into the kiss through his nose.

And Zoro wants to hold onto this feeling forever. He wants this warmth sparking through his whole body to never end. He wants to crawl under the cook’s skin and make a home for himself, and he wants to carve out a spot in himself for Sanji too.

The swordsman brings his left arm up from the cook’s waist where it had been resting chastely this entire time, and clings to Sanji’s back, trying to pull the blonde closer. Even if the floor beneath him is starting to get uncomfortable, even if their nakama could walk in on them at any moment, and even if he’s starting to find it difficult to breath.

Zoro finally breaks the kiss with a gasp but doesn’t let go. Luckily, Sanji doesn’t pull away either, just rests his forehead against Zoro’s and breathes against his now wet and sensitive lips. For a long time, they just breathe together in that position.

It’s just as affectionate and intimate as the kiss, so Zoro’s not complaining.

He is, however, becoming a bit insecure as the silence drags on. Before he can restrain himself, Zoro finds himself whispering, “Are you really okay with this?” Zoro can feel the blonde’s temple moving against his own and assumes Sanji just tried raising a swirly eyebrow at him.

“Yes,” he sighs out.

Like a dam bursting, Zoro allows hope and desperation to overtake him. Everything left unsaid spills out between them with no chance of gathering It back up, emotions slipping through his useless, cloying fingers.

“Are you _sure_?” he croaks desperately. “Because I don’t think I can do this if you’re not. I need this to be real. I need _us_ to be real, and for us both to know it.” The swordsman is pleading at this point. Emotionally, he’s just thrown himself over the edge of a cliff, reeling and awaiting the inevitable impact. 

Yet, like it’s no trouble at all, like it’s not earth shattering or terrifying. Like it’s easy for him, Sanji catches him. Sanji meets him at the bottom. Like always, he matches him with equal fervor.

‘’Yes, Marimo. I’m _sure_. I’ve _been_ sure,” he states with absolute conviction. Sanji leans back enough for their foreheads to separate and to maintain more focused eye contact. “And anyways, I kissed _you_ , remember?”

“Shut it,” Zoro mumbles, lacking the heat he was aiming for. He might have been a little too stunned that Sanji reciprocated his feelings to make the first move. Zoro is absolutely not pouting about this fact.

“Make me,” Sanji taunts, lips curling in a smirk. And Zoro finally snaps back to himself. The insecurity and anxiety that held him previously, evaporates the passivity he’d adopted since this interaction begun. He was _used_ to this version of Sanji. That sharp grin was as familiar as Wado.

That familiarity is something he can use to ground himself.

The chef’s smug expression grows when Zoro takes too long to respond. As good as it looks on Sanji though, he wants to wipe it off his face. Then the cook licks his teeth, perhaps searching for a cigarette that’s not there, or chasing the swordsman’s taste from earlier, or to further challenge Zoro to prove himself. Whatever his goal, Zoro would find it incredibly attractive if it didn’t confirm the cook was fucking with him. The last trailing bit of tension and uncertainty within him releases as instinct and pride demand Sanji pay for challenging him.

Zoro snarls. He uses his grip at the cook’s waist and back to pull him closer, jerks his head up off the hard kitchen floorboards, surging forward to crash their lips together again.

And it’s everything he’s ever wanted.

It’s hot and good and it feels like them coming together in an inevitable conclusion. Now both of Sanji’s hands weave into his shorter hair, fisting large clumps of green to angle his head how the chef wants. In the meantime, Zoro attempts to suck the blonde’s soul out through their mouths. The swordsman licks into his mouth, which tastes faintly of star anise and clover thanks to the cook’s cigarettes. He finds the flavor addicting and uses his tongue to chase hints of it around the chef’s mouth.

Sanji moans low in his chest and somehow manages to get closer by untangling their lower appendages and bringing his long, slack covered legs to grip the outside of Zoro’s thighs, effectively caging him in with his most powerful weapons.

Zoro doesn’t mind.

He also doesn’t mind when Sanji pulls harder on his hair, guiding him up to a sitting position with the blonde perched in his lap. This position seems to satisfy the cook, because his hands relax in his hair, the frantic pressure against his mouth recedes, and the Strawhat’s chef releases a large sigh through his nose. They kiss for a few more moments at a sedate pace, lingering and still warm.

Reluctantly, very reluctantly Zoro pulls back from the best kiss of his life.

When their mouths separate, Zoro opens his eye, though he doesn’t remember closing it again. He finds the blonde in his lap, already looking at him. Their noses brush together and his kiss-bitten lips tingle everywhere. Sanji’s hands slowly fall from his hair to land on his neck and shoulders.

“Are _you_ sure you’re not messing with _me_?” Sanji asks quietly in awed sincerity. Zoro shifts his left hand away from its place on the cook’s flank and up to the blonde’s neck. For a brief moment, the swordsman tangles his fingers into the soft hair at the nape of Sanji’s neck before finally resting his broad palm along the chef’s jaw.

While running his thumb along the sharp cheekbone, the green-haired man responds firmly, “No. Not about this. Never about this.” And he means it.

As soon as his words sink in, he can feel more than hear when Sanji lets out a soft breath in what Zoro hopes is relief. His hope grows when the chef tilts his cheek into the palm curled around his face and the body above him relaxes into his lap. Sanji’s eyes soften and the smallest smile twitches at the corner of his lips.

“Okay,” he states softly, so softly, and Zoro forgets how to breathe. The air catches in his chest at the expression on the cook’s face coupled with that tone.

He knew the chef could make those expressions, of course he did. The swordsman was no stranger to seeing Sanji’s vulnerable smiles, but they were almost always quiet and hidden and definitely not for him.

They were secretive smiles for when Ussopp and Chopper were seated together at the main mast chattering about the properties and applications of certain plant oils. That soft gaze was for the passing image of Luffy curled around Franky’s large shoulders through a distant doorframe, as the cyborg carried their captain to bed after a particularly long story had put him to sleep. And the blonde usually reserved that soft tone for quite mornings or late nights with Robin and Brook, when either crew member was feeling a bit off.

So to have that softness aimed at Zoro directly, instead of stolen glimpses from across the ship while the chef is otherwise occupied, is entirely unexpected.

It takes the first mate at least a full minute to process and adjust to the world being flipped on its head. In the meantime, Zoro relishes the feeling of warm, calloused fingertips tracing along his neck and chest, only leaving his skin momentarily to tap a light rhythm into his collar bones. At one point, one adventurous digit scrapes against the sensitive edges of his scar from Mihawk, causing him to stifle a shudder.

His thoughts are forced back into the present where his crewmate is still sitting on top of him where he’d clambered onto him earlier, pressed against him chest to chest. The chef’s expression hadn’t changed much since Zoro initiated his short reverie. It only seemed to shift slightly to a look hinting at fond exasperation.

“Zoro,” the chef repeats for a fourth time in the past few minutes.

The swordsman moves his hands from the blonde’s waist to the thighs bracketing his lap, like he’s wanted to for years. “Yeah?” His hands squeeze the chef’s thigh muscles lightly in tandem with his question.

The blond breathes, once, twice. “We should go. . . check on the others,” he hums out, but makes no move to get up.

Zoro nods in agreement. “Yeah, we should,” he kisses the cook on the corner of his mouth to emphasize his point. “See if they need help.” Another kiss for emphasis at the other corner.

“Zoro, I’m serious,” the cook states. To drive home his point, he leaves several trailing kisses up the blind side of his face.

The swordsman scoffs, “And you. . . think. . . I’m not?” He leans his head down during the pauses to kiss the tops of Sanji’s knuckles where they rest on either of his broad shoulders.

The blond brings his right hand up his neck to his earrings, tugging on them slightly in admonishment. “I know you’re not.” Zoro huffs, but nuzzles into the cook’s hand, laying a final kiss to his smooth palm. He knows the chef is right. 

The green-haired man removes his hands from the powerful thighs beside him, leaving the chef free to get up, but despite all the chef’s words, he refuses to move.

Zoro chuckles lightly, leans back placing his hands behind his back on either side of himself on the floorboards. He looks at the cook who looks all too comfortable in his lap, but with a put-upon expression since Zoro is no longer in reach. “Sanji,” he teases and the blonde crosses his arms over his chest. “You have to move so we can go check on the others,” he reasons. Leave it to Sanji to switch his position midway through a fight. He’s ridiculous.

“No. I don’t want to.” And Sanji fucking pouts at him. Zoro has never loved this man more than in this moment.

 _This_ , he thinks, is what he wanted. That something more. More than what they had, but without removing anything important. A more, where he gets to see and experience every side of the cook. Where the fighting doesn’t stop, but they’re allowed to share space again without it devolving into an exchange of blows.

And this type of fighting? Petulant and silly and affectionate? Zoro wants this forever, and hopefully the chef will let him.

However, Zoro is never one to back down from a fight, even if it’s a silly fake one. He tries to sound reprimanding with a pointed “That’s too bad, Sanji,” but he doesn’t think it works very well, because in the next moment, the cook snorts at him, and Zoro tries to stifle the urge to laugh. “We need to go, and we can’t do that until you move your ass.”

It’s then that Zoro catches the cook’s conniving smirk as he uncrosses his arms to lean forward and wrap them around his muscled neck. “Hmmm, make me,” he purrs. Zoro can’t help but tip his head down to puff laughter into the cook’s neck. Like always, they’re right back where they started.

Ah, so that’s what he was aiming for with this charade.

Zoro can do that.

“Fine, Curly.” The swordsman leans forward again, wraps one arm around the swirly idiot’s lower back, braces his feet and other arm on the ground, and pushes them both up. Sanji had the mind to wrap his legs around his waist in anticipation of the movement.

When they’re standing, Zoro can clearly see the chef’s smug and satisfied grin, like he won a prize. The chef lets his legs drop to support his own weight and his arms unwrap from their hold on his neck. Sanji finally steps back and gives him one final shit eating grin.

“C’mon Zoro, quit stalling, we need to go check on the crew.” Then he turns around with a choked squeal and runs out of the kitchen laughing with the indignant swordsman right on his heels.

***

It’s not until two days later that they were left alone to kiss again.

The swordsman and chef’s gaze would meet across the deck during the day, the kitchen during meals, and the boy’s cabin just before bed, but they were never alone. Luffy, for some reason, had it in his mind that he couldn’t be separated from Zoro. Any time, Zoro tried to lose his rubber captain, try to sneak off to bother the chef in the kitchen, Luffy would catch up to him, hang off his shoulders and refuse to let go until Zoro played some sort of game with him.

This was just as well, because every time Zoro entered to kitchen, one of their nakama was there. Sometimes Usopp and Chopper were there while Usopp exaggerated another tall tale. Sometimes it was Nami and Robin having an afternoon snack. And sometimes it was Brook, speaking softly with Sanji about God knows what. Each time he’d have to give Sanji a longing look, make an excuse that he was there for alcohol, and get kicked out.

The only time of the day Zoro was left alone, was during training.

Luffy found it too boring to hang around him, Usopp found his grunted responses frustrating, and Nami found him gross. However, Zoro wasn’t going to give up any of his training time to seek out the cook. As much as he’d love to spend some time with him, his training came first. Besides, Zoro always trained around the same time that the chef was cooking meals and disturbing a busy cook in his own kitchen seemed like a recipe for disaster, especially if he smelled like sweat and dirt.

So it’s surprising as all hell when two days after their first kiss, Sanji storms up to him while he’s training on the upper deck and kisses him.

Luckily, no one else is on deck at this point in the day, it’s just before sunset and a breeze has started to blow around, making it too chilly for Nami and Robin to relax, and too dark for most games, tinkering, or violin playing. Zoro is shirtless and has moved onto his heaviest weights, the top-heavy half-ton one’s that mimic heavy swords. He’s on rep number 786, 787, 78-, when Sanji barks his name from the deck below him.

“Zoro,” He pauses on the upstroke, holding both weights above his head as the cook makes a beeline towards him up the stairs separating them. The cook’s brow is furrowed, cigarette between his lips, hands in his pockets as he approaches. When he’s less than a few feet away, he tosses his cigarette overboard. With hands and mouth clear of any obstacles, the blonde grabs at him, only calming once his hands rest lightly on Zoro’s sweaty shoulders.

The swordsman isn’t sure what the cook wants him to do, so he stays put.

Apparently, this is what the blonde man wanted because his brows relax. Sanji sniffs a bit with distaste, likely by the smell of sweat, but leans forward regardless. Tilting his head so their noses can settle beside each other more comfortably, Sanji closes the last bit of distance between them and slots their lips together. Unlike last time, this kiss is brief, fairly chaste and is more of a reassuring press of skin than a passionate homecoming. Soon enough, Sanji breaks their lips apart with a harsh smacking sound, wrinkles his nose again before nodding his head once, turning on his heel and walking away.

Zoro feels like the cook was staking his claim, or at least reasserting it since they hadn’t been alone for two days. The swordsman huffs loudly and rolls his eye. The stupid cook made him lose count of his reps. He thinks he was somewhere in the mid-700s, so decides to start again at 750. When he finishes training, Zoro decides he needs to pay the chef back for that sneaky kiss as well as Sanji’s words from in the galley.

***

The next day, Zoro lucks out to catch the chef alone in the kitchen.

After concluding that he will not let Sanji’s previous kiss go unchallenged, he’d resolved to gain the upper hand. He’d been pretending to nap on the upper deck across from the kitchen, noting the comings and goings of the crew so he could ambush Sanji without their other crewmates watching. He had watched Usopp, Robin, Luffy, even Franky enter and exit the kitchen several times that morning before the coast was clear.

The swordsman had then walked calmly across the ship, with an excuse of needing a glass of water on the tip of his tongue for any crewmate he was stopped by.

He wasn’t.

When he reached the kitchen door, he took a deep breath and holds it before pushing the door open.

One second later and he would have opened the door into Sanji carrying several trays of snacks. Luckily, he didn’t, otherwise the chef would have destroyed him. Despite their newly formed relationship, Zoro knows Sanji wouldn’t forgive him for wasting food. The blonde stops walking towards the door, readjusts his grip on the serving trays he’s holding aloft, and gives him a questioning expression.

“Marimo? What-,“ he’s startled into silence by Zoro closing the distance between them and wrapping his arms around the cook’s waist.

“Sanji,” he sighs out and buries his face in the chef’s neck, breathing in his sharp smell of ginger and more earthy hint of cumin. Zoro then nips at the thinner man’s throat, trailing up the side of his jaw before kissing him full on the lips.

The cook is a bit slow to respond as the swordsman attacks his mouth with his own. Zoro eventually breaches the seal of Sanji’s lips to thrust his tongue into his mouth to hopefully get a taste of whatever dish the chef had been preparing.

He moans softly and sucks Zoro’s tongue further into his mouth. When the green-haired man finally pulls back to end the kiss, Sanji follows, pulling Zoro’s bottom lip between his teeth. His grip tightens on the cook’s waist, digging into the small of his back.

When Sanji finally releases his lip, he leans towards his pierced ear to growl softly at him, “If you make me drop this, I will kill you!” However, Sanji backs up his threat by nipping at his earlobe. Zoro stifles a groan. Apparently, his ears are quite sensitive.

Prying himself away from the blonde takes every ounce of willpower Zoro possesses, but it’s worth it when he hears Sanji whine as his arms unwrap from him and he steps away. Sanji is just as weak for Zoro’s touch as the swordsman is for his and they both know it.

He feels vindicated.

“Yeah, wouldn’t want any wasted food, now would we?” he says nonchalantly, gauging the chef’s reaction. He slowly takes another few steps to circle around the cook before continuing. “Anyway, I just came for a glass of water, so you can carry on with what you were doing.”

Making it to the sink, he keeps an eye on the still unmoving cook, while taking a glass from the drying rack and filling it with cold water. By the time he finishes, Sanji is still rigidly in place. Zoro smirks but is quick to smother it before passing the blonde’s position to open the kitchen door wide and hold it there.

“Thanks, Zoro,” he says, finally shifting forward towards the door to the galley.

However, before he passes entirely through the threshold, Zoro catches his jacket to slow him to a stop.

Before the cook can ream him out, Zoro wraps the arm not tangled around the shoulder blades of his suit jacket around the chef’s front, pressing his palm flat, fingers splayed out over the blonde’s heart. Pressing himself against the chef’s back without disturbing his precious cargo proves easy, as Sanji remains rigid and unmoving. Perfect.

“Hey Sanji,” he breathes hot air against his ear, mouth brushing the blonde strands covering it. The cook shudders and Zoro is _living_.

He tries to make his voice go as low as possible as he says, “I think you should hurry up. You’re keeping everyone waiting.” Then, as quickly as he can, he darts out of Sanji’s space.

When Sanji still doesn’t move for a few seconds, he decides to try one last tactic. In the blink of an eye, Zoro brings one hand onto the blonde’s right asscheek, squeezing once before releasing him to skirt around the stunned cook. He manages to bolt out of the kitchen before Sanji can react.

When he finally does though, Zoro isn’t disappointed and gets exactly what he was waiting for.

The grin that overtakes his face somehow triples when he hears the chef splutter, curse, and finally positively _shriek_ in rage. “FUCK YOU, YOU SHITTY MARIMO BASTARD, I’M GOING TO SKIN YOU ALIVE!”

The swordsman finds himself guffawing all the way to the crow’s nest where he plans to hide for the next few hours while Sanji cools off.

Once situated in the calm training room, his grin softens while he tries to imagine if the cook had returned to the kitchen after delivering the usual afternoon snacks to plan some sort of revenge. He hopes so.

***

The next few weeks are filled with traded kisses when they can spare a few moments alone. Most are chaste and sweet and make Zoro want to melt into the cook’s arms. Meanwhile, others are hot and heavy, promising more if they had the time.

Unfortunately, they are never left alone for longer than a few minutes. Someone always manages to barge in, and the two barely have enough time to scramble away from each other. Zoro isn’t ashamed of them, of course not, but he wants this to remain private for a while.

He’s fairly sure that Sanji wants that too.

Another aspect of their kissing is that one of them usually has their hands occupied. It’s become sort of a game between them, to catch the other alone, arms busy so no embrace is ever completely satisfying for both parties.

The swordsman thinks they’re cursed to continue on this way. He remembers a time in one of the ship’s hallways they had enough time for a short conversation before they heard approaching footsteps.

“When did it start for you?” Zoro asks. Sanji is leaning against his left side, with his chin propped on Zoro’s shoulder. One cheek is squashed on his own hand where it’s resting on the strong shoulder, his other hand curled around Zoro’s muscled arm to hold his hand.

“When did what start?” the blonde mumbles up at him, his blue gaze fond.

“When did this,” Zoro gestures between them, “start for you?” he clarifies.

Sanji chews on his lip for a second in thought. “I knew at Thriller Bark, but there was never really one moment that started it. It was just little bits of everything, you know?” Sanji sighs heavily. “But, Thriller bark was where I realized what it would mean to lose you. What it would mean to the crew, to me.” He smiles wistfully for a moment, before being replaced by a warm grin paired with an adorable head tilt. “What about you?”

Zoro hums. “I’m not really sure either. I’m pretty sure I was in love with you long before Enies Lobby though, because I only realized sometime after that.” He hears Sanji gasp. He glances down at the cook from where he’d been gazing off at the opposite wall they were leaning against.

“You love me?” he squeaks. Sanji’s face is flushed but his grin is thrown wide in joy.

“Yeah, yeah. Don’t rub it in.”

The chef sputters, tightening his grip on Zoro’s hand where he’s grasping it. “I love you, too, you idiot. Of course I do.” Sanji’s thumb rubs against the top of his own.

“Oh.”

“Pfft, yeah ‘Oh’.” The chef buries his face in Zoro’s shoulder even further and laughs.

Eventually, the soft moment is broken by the sound of approaching conversation. It sounds like Robin and Brook are having a heated discussion about something, likely a book or other such piece of literature.

Zoro and Sanji glance at one another before breaking apart to shuffle down the hallway.

***

After what seemed like the hundredth instance of being interrupted during a quiet moment together, Zoro had had enough. Enough of the sneaking around, enough of the interruptions, enough pretending at all moments of the day when he’s not alone with the cook that he doesn’t yearn to be close to him. Pretending that they still hate each other.

They haven’t allowed the crew to witness their closeness yet, not in fear of their reactions, but in possessiveness of the newness between them.

However, Zoro has convinced Sanji that letting the crew in on their little secret will be better in the long run, since they both didn’t really want to keep it secret. Plus, then they can unabashedly spend time together during the day without having to break apart.

“So, how should we tell them?” Sanji asks.

He’s at the sink rinsing the last few pans from the beautifully prepared seafood stew he’d made for dinner. Zoro’s sitting at the bar, leaning forward against the end of the counter closest to the sink. Zoro flicks the bottle of soap near the faucet and enjoys the cook scowling at him for a moment before returning to the dishes. The swordsman smiles.

“I don’t know, figured I’d just announce it at dinner or something,” Zoro shrugs.

Sanji rolls his eyes at him, “Okay, wiseass, but what would you actually say?” he prompts.

“Probably just something like, ‘Oi, me and the cook are together now.’”

Sanji sucks his teeth and breathes a long-suffering sigh. “What, no lead up? You can’t just blurt it out like that.”

The swordsman furrows his brow. “What’s wrong with just saying it, it’s the truth?”

“I know that, but it’s a delicate issue and shouldn’t be treated like an announcement of the morning mail.” The chef dries his hands thoroughly on the kitchen towels after finishing the dishes, circling around the counter to sit at the bar beside Zoro.

“I don’t see why it’s that big of a deal.” And he doesn’t. The chef is being all huffy about something he doesn’t need to be huffy about. On his left, Sanij slumps down, bracing his elbows on the bar surface and resting his face in both hands.

“It just _is_ , okay?” Sanji expresses vehemently with a whine, body melting at his side.

It’s gratifying.

Before they got together, Zoro never would’ve thought the cook would be so whiny, but he has come to like it. A lot. Especially, since it lets him excuse his own touch-starved clinginess whenever they’re together.

It does make sense though, considering how he acts around women. Obviously, the swordsman would wring the cook’s neck if he tried treating Zoro like he did Nami or Robin, it makes him nauseous just thinking about it.

But he does like having confirmation that Sanji definitely wants him back. Reading Sanji had always been pretty easy, the man wore his heart on his sleeve. Seeing the evidence of who Sanji’s heart belonged to, knowing that it’s him, was something else entirely.

By now, the cook’s whole chest is draped over the counter, his face buried in the crook of one elbow closest to Zoro, while the other supporting his head, lies limp, dangling over the sink. 

_Dork_ , Zoro thinks, eternally grateful that Sanji lets him see him like this. When they got together, Zoro allowed his walls to crumble, and by some miracle, the cook did too. Soon after, the blonde quickly realized that his penchant for dramatics would consistently let him win any argument against the steel-hearted swordsman.

Zoro found the cook’s pettiness adorable. He shouldn’t. Zoro should be able to maintain some pride in disagreements that aren’t their usual screaming matches. But when Sanji acts like this, _his_ pride is nowhere in sight, so why should Zoro pretend he can say no to him?

“Fine,” Zoro acquiesces, patting his lover on the shoulder. “You get to tell everyone then.”

“Tell everyone what?” Zoro wipes the fond look off his face, rips his hand off of Sanji’s shoulder and turns to see the Strawhat ship’s doctor standing just within the kitchen threshold.

The cook’s entire body jerks to attention, painfully, to stare at Chopper. He looks like he gave himself whiplash with how quickly his head left the counter.

 _Shit!_ They were so wrapped up in each other they didn’t even hear their nakama approaching, let alone open the kitchen door. Some mighty warriors they are. How long had Chopper been standing their listening to their conversation? Probably not that long.

The young doctor’s expression shifts towards confusion as they both open their mouths to offer excuses while their cheeks redden.

When the reindeer starts to look concerned, Zoro’s heart clenches.

Decision made, the swordsman peeks over at Sanji, receiving a soft but firm nod.

Deep breath in, “That we’re together,” and out.

“I can see that,” Chopper says as he patters further into the room. Sanji puffs air in a quick burst from his nose.

He paws at Zoro’s hand where it rests on the counter until the swordsman gets with the program and laces their fingers together.

“Romantically. We’re together romantically.” Sanji adds. The swordsman’s shy gaze settles on where their hands are linked in affectionate solidarity, out in the open. A wave of confidence surges through him as him and Sanji await judgment from their youngest crew member.

However, before Chopper can react, Usopp swivels into view.

And he must have been waiting on the other side of the wall because he says, casual as anything, “I’m not surprised, you guys have always bickered like an old married couple anyway.” The sharp-shooter leans against the open kitchen door, crossing his arms nonchalantly. And of course, in true Strawhat fashion, that’s when all hell breaks loose.

“WHATTTT? Zoro and Sanji got married?” Chopper’s eyes widen comically as he screeches.

At the same time that Sanji and Zoro, as well as Usopp all shout, “NO!” the rest of their crew trails in, led by none other than Strawhat Luffy.

“WHAT THE HELL, GUYS? I’m your CAPTAIN, you can’t just get married without my permission!”

Zoro stiffens in fear. Is Luffy rejecting them? He didn’t think Luffy would care. What the fuck are they supposed to do now?

He blinks over at Sanji and his fear dissolves into the aether from whence it came. Sanji looks pissed and determined and stubborn like he always does, and he hasn’t let go of Zoro’s hand.

Expression set to face their captain, Zoro draws his gaze to Franky and Brook leaning on the far wall behind the dining table, at Nami who’s flanking Luffy and Robin who has drawn herself alongside Usopp. None of them look disgusted or worried. In fact, most of them are smiling softly.

The first-mate stares down his captain. Luffy is looking up at him, meeting his gaze, expression sunny. He does have a pout in place, but his famous straw hat isn’t pulled over his eyes to darken a fierce gaze. Oh.

“We’re not married, Luffy.” Zoro clarifies.

“Oh, good.” Luffy deflates.

“But if we wanted to, you’d let us, right?” Zoro asks, grin widening. Sanji sputters beside him.

Without any hesitation, “Yeah, of course,” and then unbidden, declares, “You guys love each other so you should get married.” Zoro smirks when he hears Sanij choke beside him, he steals a glance at the blonde’s bright red face.

“When would we have time to get married?” he jokes. Sanji has not moved beside him except to tighten their interlocking grasp.

“Eh? We’ll find time, just as long there’s a huge party and lots of food.” Luffy’s grin overtakes his entire face and he begins laughing uproariously.

Zoro chuckles along with him, turning to his lover with a shit-eating grin, “Guess we’re engaged, Love-Cook.”

Finally, Sanji breaks his silence to shriek in indignation, “WE ARE NOT ENGAGED!” And then more quietly “You didn’t even propose.”

“You know once Luffy decides something there’s no arguing with him. Plus, neither did you,” Zoro fires back.

Sanji rests his gaze, one at a time, on all their smiling nakama in his kitchen, only to be enveloped by warmth emanating from every direction. He turns back to Zoro, smile in place.

“Fine then.” Without breaking their hold on one another, the blonde slips off the bar stool and forces Zoro to swivel around to face everyone. Zoro’s playful attitude leaves him to reel in shock, as Sanji kisses the top of his knuckles, kneels down in front of him and says, “This is me proposing.”

For a moment, all the air freezes in his chest. Sanji just _proposed to him_.

Sensibly, he never really considered marriage as a possibility for him, and logistically, he didn’t think a pirate’s lifestyle would leave room for any type of romance. Yet, he’s already fallen for the cook and however unlikely, he finds himself pleasantly surprised when he thinks about it.

It would be hard, being Sanji’s husband, but it would be fun too. He doesn’t know how long they have to live as members of a notorious pirate crew on the run from the world government, but if they ever achieve their respective dreams, he wouldn’t mind having someone to spend the rest of his life with afterwards.

Afterwards, they could love and fight each other for the foreseeable future. Zoro’s sure Sanji will find his ocean, the All Blue, and they could celebrate that together. He’s not certain if the chef will start his own floating sea restaurant or return to the Baratie, but he wouldn’t mind following him wherever he ended up settling down.

It could be restful, to have somewhere to return to after he’s become the world’s greatest swordsman. Of course, once he claims the title, he’ll have to leave once in a while to defend it, but in between fights with other aspiring sword wielders, he could spend that downtime with Sanji, with his husband.

So it’s easy to recover from the shock. It’s easy to pull their clasped hands up from where his cook had rested them on Zoro’s knees. It’s easy to swoop down with his face flushed, lay a soft kiss to Sanji’s knuckles in a return the gesture of affection. It’s incredibly easy to repeat Sanji’s teasing words, “Fine then,” and easy to tell him softly, in front of all of their nakama, “This is me accepting.”

Silence. No one has spoken for a long time. The cook has dropped his head down to brace his forehead on top of their hands, still entwined after returning to Zoro’s knee. Sanji starts shaking silently against him.

Zoro’s brow furrows in concern, he brings his other hand forward to try for a comforting caress, but before he reaches him, Sanji throws his head back in loud barking laughter.

Luffy is the quickest to join in with his beaming smile and pealing cackles. “WOOHOO! PARTYYYY!” And the rest of the crew follows in suit. Franky’s booming guffaws burst through Brook’s melodious “Yohoho’s”, while Usopp and Nami’s mirthful snickering shook their bodies in tempo with Robin’s silent laughter, all the while Chopper giggled.

And that was all it took for Zoro to slowly begin chuckling as shock dissolved into joy, into pure affection. For Sanji, his newly appointed fiancé, for his captain, the simple-minded, loving, idiot, for his friends who have always been accepting of any absurdity the world had to offer.

And for himself because he’s unrestrainedly happy right now. He’s where he’s meant to be in this world. He’s on a pirate ship with his nakama sailing towards their dreams.

He’s home.

**Author's Note:**

> Well I didn't expect that ending when I started writing it, nor how long this ended up being, but here we are. This is my first posted fic since I hate posting things before they're finished and didn't really intend to post this in the first place. Plus, I'm not a writer, so if you're expecting any other fics from me anytime soon, you will be disappointed. I do have the start of an idea, but it is unlikely my imagination will work well enough to flesh it out.
> 
> Also, the title is not related to title of the first episode of season two of TUA, since I started writing this before season 2 came out.


End file.
